Flickr - Alfred Wade
I am in deep thought about what Dutch born organizational sociologist, G. Hofstede suggests. He implies that culture manifests itself in for forms symbols, heroes, rituals and values. In my everyday reality a part of this means that certain objects can have a particular meaning to an individual. At this moment I am glancing at the poppy I purchased for Remembrance Day as it lies on my book shelf with such symbolic potency.
I recall being in primary (elementary) school and paying ten cents for a poppy, now I pay one dollar but I guess it equals the standard of living in real goods. Back then we had two options a poppy with a pin and the other with the green stem which cost slightly more. Of course I always preferred the one with the green stem it was slightly bigger and more appealing, as it was versatile; a girl could wear it in her hair and not worry about being pricked. For me as a girl or even as a young adult Remembrance Day was associated with impressive ceremonies, the moving sounding of the Last Post.
War to me as a primary school student was just a casual thought of fallen soldiers pushed to the forefront just for a day. The evanescent image of War perhaps comes from a weak sense of history. As I got older and studied Global Economics the War took on more significance. I learned about the Bretton Woods Agreement, the Gold standard etc. and many more developments which arose out of war. I never knew my grandfathers part in the War until his death. He did not speak about that part of his life. When the guns were fired at his military funeral the thought of fighting in war took on more significance.
I have been conducting a research on my family tree and I came across a very close relative. The photograph revealed that he was a soldier of war buried in England. Growing up his siblings never talked about him in reference to the war just that he died. Maybe I was too young to understand. It was not until this Remembrance Day when Montserrat remembered the fallen soldiers and the names were revealed on the newly constructed cenotaph I realized that the same relative was the said soldier buried in England. Yes World II has a new face this year as it has captured my attention with immediate importance.
The rituals of Remembrance Day 2010 has come and gone but it has left an affecting memory. So as we continue to call to mind the heroes and my very own relative Alfred Wade, who fought. We also remember those who have died in the two World Wars and other conflicts. Let us remember the supreme sacrifice that they made so we may value life, live freely and enjoy the way we now live. I should mention that G. Hofstede went on to suggest that each person has within themselves several layers of culture which may be conflicting. I am finding out more and more about myself as time passes and my layers of culture are revealed to me through history. What about your life have you recently discovered and how has the past influenced your present day reality.
Alan Lomax Collection
Ring Plays are the games that we play when we sing or recite nursery rhymes. When last have you been in the company of children who were reciting the words of a ring play? I imagine that except for some cultural anthropologists, historians or pre-school teachers we may be at a disadvantage. For we may either stand trying to memorize the words that were familiar with or we may have the expression of surprise and disbelief that we are unable to recall those words from childhood days.
Rings plays in the Caribbean are usually an oral tradition as they are passed on from child to child. This tradition has been kept alive for centuries as they were a natural and positive part of a child’s life.
Until recently, I have never given much thought to the original wording of ring plays and their authors because I always that that I remembered them all. I always thought that somewhere back in my memory there would always be a storehouse of ring plays.
The other day, my daughter was singing “Ring around the Roses”, her words varied from what I knew especially the third stanza. After researching this rhyme I realized that culture is reflected in ring play verses. This is an originally British rhyme but has spread and been adapted by many others. For example in the Caribbean the third stanza was a-tissue! a-tissue! Now she sings ashes, ashes! Her version was influenced by an American culture while my version was unique to United Kingdom, South Africa and Australian. What is your own version of this rhyme and others such as Brown Girl in the Ring, On the River on the Bank?
I had a teacher who once said never trust your memory and as I get older I find this to be true. Things should be documented or they will be forgotten and our children will have to depend on a fading oral history.
I add to this the fact that many of rhymes and ring plays were written down but many Caribbean people did not have the economic means to purchase these materials. What other things exist only in memory but have yet to find an abode in written form?
St. Anthony's Church - Jan Baster
Each year we celebrate the anniversary of something; birthdays, deaths, anniversary, national holidays and each year I find new meaning in these celebrations and pause for thought. A few days ago we celebrated the 176 anniversary of the emancipation of slaves. Now questions are erupting in my consciousness and about the land of my birth.
On the 1 August 1838, two years after the Emancipation Day Proclamation was passed, in thanks to God the freed slaves in Montserrat gave a silver communion cup to St. Anthony’s church. They would have seen that very same church with a sign that previously read “No slaves or dogs allowed.” In fact they were relegated to sit under a large tamarind tree while their owners worshipped.
St. Anthony’s Anglican Church was/is the oldest Anglican/Episcopal church in the Church of the Province of the West Indies (The Anglican Church of the Caribbean) built in 1636. The church was abandoned in the danger zone in 1995, due to volcanic activity. For me the church held such significance as I recall with accuracy that last time I entered and left that church. I was a teacher and my farewell was held in St. Anthony’s. I left the church with a remarkable enthusiasm for life some seventeen years ago as I embarked on my journey to the Bahamas. As an Anglican who now resides in another country in the same Province; I beam with pride to know that my island was on record of having the oldest Anglican Church in the Province.
I walked in that church yard many times and stood where the same tamarind tree was unaware of such a history with an unforgettable message. I now ask myself, did I drink from that cup when I last received Holy Communion there? Did the slaves go on to build the faith of others in the island, even the faith of my ancestors? The sign outside the church “No slaves or dogs allowed.” was taken down shortly after emancipation. The sign positioned approximately 3km from the church (not in the church yard) now reads; ‘No entry beyond this point.’
I now ask myself, where is the cup? as I retrace the steps of the former slaves in my mind. It brings to mind the fact that we have to be careful what signs we put up now, because in years to come the situations of life may force us to wear different signs. I also reflect on the fact that our past is all around us and what our ancestors did still affects us in subtle ways today. Do we realize this as we live out our lives now? I concur with a writer that once wrote the past do lingers in the present.
Do you know and understand what happened around you?
Her gaze…
Turns inward
Increasing wisdom
Yet still searching
Hitting her stride
Evolving
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
My cousin’s Facebook wall today had a photograph of my grandmother. The images invoked memories of my grandmother’s ritual of blowing me kisses through the phone after ending our telephone conversation; the figure of her looking into my eyes and seeing the simple pleasures of her smile still resonate with me. My blog today celebrates my paternal grandmother on her ninety sixth birthday. The role she had in all our lives and shared with all of us (family, friends, and well -wishers) is palpable. I recall the first time she met my husband the look in her eyes and the salutation ‘my grandson’ as if he had cometh forth from her loins. Today I remember the words, the conversations that my grandmother and I have had over the years publicly or in our private ‘whispering-galleries.’ These times are still clearly heard and held for posterity. I am blessed to have known her. I can truly savor my thoughts … now with a sweet maturity and authentic tenderness.
The simple pleasures of her smile
In her eyes
Pierced through
Pieced together
Salvaged family moments
Succinct whispers
Atavistic instincts
Enraptured in her beauty
The years weaved her story
Our memories
Memories – our treasured heirloom
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed my Mario Testino
Hopeful, excited, eager, curious … these are just a few of the labels to ascribe my interest in the pending nuptials of Prince William and Kate. I found myself keenly waiting for and watching the new lifetime movie, taking a royal quiz, reading or watching any medium that discuss William and Kate. I do not know if it was out of curiosity for tabloid celebrity or popular culture. Maybe my interest is psychological due to my being born into a Crown Colony hence my status as a British subject and my allegiance to all things royal. It may be sociological in that my interest is because the wedding is a great social occasion that I want to share in. Perhaps it is maternal in that I have a four year old daughter who would one day see the coronation of William as King of England. I want her to be aware of the wider world in which we live and its many leaders and forms of governance. In that way it would be in my interest to inculcate such notice to the British Empire.
I also want to share this moment with my daughter because she is into princesses, weddings and fairy tales and occasions like this engenders that kind of emotion and strike a magical balance between fantasy and real life. As I did likewise almost thirty years ago as I watched Prince William’s mother and father captivate the world. Their world is no doubt different from the world as we know it however for us the Royal Family is a patina of “sophistication and old brilliance.”
So as I read about Elizabeth, the Octogenarian Monarch I look forward with profound interest to Friday morning. I am looking forward to seeing the poignant snapshots of the historical buildings and traditional ceremonies of Britain be brought fully and movingly to life. I anticipate seeing the fancy frocks, the majestic guards, royal carriages and the progress of the Empire. Perchance I am thinking like Thomas Carlyle and to paraphrase the younger generations of the world have in them the freshness of young children and yet the depth of earnest men. Although the future is not yet set I am certain that it will define Prince William as both a symbol and a part of the embodiment of new generation of symbols that matter.
Photographed by Kelly Mooney
I was watching the Travel Channel today. The program Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmerman was in India. Suddenly I was harboring a nostalgic yearning for childhood foods. I wanted to drink some milk just secreted from a cow with some roasted lightly salted seed (testicles) from a goat just killed. I suddenly felt the need to blog about it. Perhaps this came from a compulsion to keep a dying skill in the Caribbean alive long after there is a need. Or perhaps because it is All Fools (April Fools) Day and my cravings are imbued with magical fantasy.
At home in Montserrat my maternal grandparents were entrepreneurs. They were also landholders who enjoyed a rural lifestyle by caring for livestock (goats, pigs, fowls [chicken], rabbits) and cultivating a variety of ground provisions (vegetables). No my family (grandparents) did not work at or owned an abattoir but they really enjoyed and made the most of the primal countryside. Back then they slaughtered goats at Christmas time for our national dish goat water, to celebrate our Irish heritage St. Patrick’s Day or in celebration of a grandchild’s baptism. I recall men coming to our house all prepared for this ritual – killing the goat. What my cousins and I would enjoy was being given the goat seeds (testicles) and we roasted them on open fires sprinkling salt on them. It has a similar taste to fish row.
Then there was my paternal grandfather. In his gloves, boots he would wake up every morning and tended his herd of cows. He would milk them. Then he would take them into the field to graze. My paternal grandmother would pasteurize the milk for our breakfast. To think about it I cannot recall those cows being fenced in. The cattle were healthy. They always had a fresh supply of water, hay and a lot of space to graze so you can imagine the quality of milk. Oh the joys of subsistence living!
My childhood inculcated a deep sense of appreciation for Caribbean living. As my compatriot Myrle Roach stated earlier this week “…there are times when I am overcome with love of country and am so thankful that I was born when and where I was and even more thankful that I grew up there. Growing up in the Caribbean is a unique experience but growing up in Montserrat is just special!” I agree!
No doubt no matter where you are from, you too share the same sentiments and feel passionate about the place you grew up.
Photographed by Genevieve Naylor
My cousin uploaded a Carleen Davis “Stealing love on the side,” song on her Facebook.com wall and one of her friends replied “My mom used to love this song….hmmm wonder y [why].” I laughed because growing up I loved this song and replayed it over and over or may have even called the radio station to replay it. Music for us at one point in our lives was a mere form of entertainment consumed in the moment. We enjoyed the rhythms, for some music relaxes us and we do not delve into the deeper meaning of the song. The music when composed is a mirror into the songwriter’s enigmatic life or proxy to whatever situation.
As we get older, we listened to what the songwriter was saying hence discovering the tender pleasures of his epiphanies. I recall when I first met my husband he said: “Brenda, you sure love white music.” He must have forgotten about his U2 and Radiohead CD’s. Admittedly I love some Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, Jim Reeves, Air Supply, Billy Joel etc. but I was taken aback as I do not see music in colour, for me it commands my attention and I enjoy the vibrant melody. Most of all I appreciate the lyrics i.e. the words of the song.
For example the lyrics in Jim Reeves song ‘We Thank Thee’ I enjoy teaching it to my daughter and she loves singing it on her way to school every morning. For me it is like passing on a legacy as my grandparents taught me this song. To teach her the song is like giving her something meaningful to take with her on life’s journey.
There are mornings when I get up and listen to the radio and the Arrow song “Proud to be a Montserratian” comes on. The lyrics evoke a sharp feeling of patriotism, resilience, pride as I bask in the sweetness of the melody. Other songs I hear conjure images such as the pulse of the street, the smell of food, the cool balm of friendships, weathered eyes etc.
The Song ‘You’re beautiful’ by James Blunt I love this song but until recently after watching the video I got sucked in by the complexity, sheer mystery and density of the lyric. The lyrics were clearly coded in the narrative of confession; it was all about suicide suffice it to say. Before then I just enjoyed the song but the visual of him committing suicide left me dazed.
So now my cousins’ intelligible friend who is now much older and sees life through a different lens now came to understand the meaning of the words as she unpeeled the layers of the meaning of ‘Stealing Love on the Side.’ She now sees the song through an adult lens and feels she can now have a confident dialogue with her mom (I would really like to be a fly on that wall). I am sure when her mother first stated that she liked the song it did not reflect her life. I am certain that it was just the seductive rhythm that drew her to the song. What about you, do you listen closely to the lyrics of songs? If so, which songs have impacted you most in your life?
Image taken from the web
Today images of Montserrat’s Agricultural exhibition held at the Groves Botanical Station came fully and movingly to life. Prae se ferre is latin for Exhibition.
March modern oxen
Trailing tracks that tractors now trek
Welcome the exhibition
Bulls midnight mating
Calf’s coming showcased
Needle craft, handy craft
Artistic highlights
Knitted stole, Sea Island cotton, crotchet
Colors dance
We grin
Products capture nature
Reminds use of schools of blue fish
Water currents and green mountain tops
Juicy tomatoes candy red
Preserved and mixed in tasty dishes
Large catch caught, process, prepared
Jumping jacks, Mahi Mahi, Wahoo
Prize winning Fisherman – a proud moment captivated
The hearty laugh of seasons
Slogan – Support local production reduce importation
Groves Botanical
Cost minimal
Participation honorable
Display trees, judge fields
Eyes examine baskets
Heaps of fruits vegetables, flowers
Farmer’s crops come together
The rhythms of our hard work
The results of our labor
The Collected outcome of what the earth birth
Potatoes, breadfruits, shaddocks
A pumpkin that two men lift
Collins Ghaut Mountain, far mountain, Farrell’s yard
Joseph’s coat pales to the mix
Of peals of cakes and pastries
Fruit drinks prepared
Scent of goat water intoxicates
We sip from paper cups
We swing to sounds of singers
Twirl to incessant drum beats
Surrounded by livestock and candy
Pigs, fowls, sheep, donkey
Sugar cake, ginger sticks, guava cheese
Garden groves grow
Children intermingle
Fresh from school buses eager to see
The new, the familiar, the delicious
Ice cream thoughts command
Melodious smiles
We look at the results
Categories contain scores
A half day, a whole day of
Selective Agricultural best
We all win the prize of a festive atmosphere
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Pencil Master Inc. - Zee Kentish
Steady as he goes
Taking flight
Under the Western sun
- followed streams to open shores
His fleet of intentions sailed the Carib sea
Re-written expressions
Expressive shifts
Meanings vivid
Torque moments
The elusiveness of his time
Unsettling blots
Under the spindly evergreen
And tempest of waves
A master of his craft
-
Full tilt
He would not be brought to his knees
- except to pray
The surf of his dialect reverberates
The confluence of his passions
His temperament lit by the heat of the sun
Chants for poor people – the function of his life
Cast iron convictions
Throwing out many nets
“Studiation beats education” -
Now illuminated at sunset in the January sea
An old fighter welded to his island
The Union Jack flown at half mast
Now his hull laid bare
Our Statesman John – a Montserrat Citizen
At sunset he stands on solid ground
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photograph taken from Island of Montserrat
It is not long into the new year and Montserrat has lost two icons; Mr. John Osborne and Mr. Noel ‘Dada’ Tuitt. We have begun to memorialize, celebrate and mourn these two well known political leaders. Mr. John Osborne, one of our former chief Minister’s of Montserrat died after serving some thirty eight years in Montserrat’s legislature. Well, exactly a week and a day after his passing Mr. Noel ‘Dada’ Tuitt, a former colleague who served with him as Minister of Agriculture then passed away. They both ran and won their seats for the People Liberation Movement (PLM).
I have been listening intently to ZJB (Radio Montserrat) and reading what I can from various sources, as many are reflecting on their lives. Hearing and reading what others have to say about them makes me remember being in Montserrat when they were alive. Even now, I can just imagine myself in Montserrat sitting on a ‘white wall’ with my foot swinging as people from the village congregate to share the news and talk about these national figures. One of the things they would probably say with amusement is “John Osborne knock Mr. Tuitt wicket clean.” In other words, due to the proximity of their deaths, Montserratians would say that: “John Osborne can bowl” or “he bowled Mr. Tuitt clean out.” This saying “bowl out” originates from cricket. In the Caribbean to say that cricket is a sport would be an understatement. Cricket is a way of life and a way of viewing life. We love cricket, so naturally we would express ourselves in cricket terms and use cricket terms as metaphors. So in this instance life is likened to a game of cricket, where we finish the innings. The way it is expressed the last person who died would be like a bowler to take someone else out.
In the Bahamas (where I live now) they say people go (die) in three’s. Meaning three people who people associate with one another usually die together. Somehow the number three is associated with completion. Three strikes, three bases in a game but maybe I’m just speculating as to how this saying started.
One thing is clear, language is moving, powerful and it is shaped by the reality of everyday experiences. This fact has created the many different cultures, dialects, pidgins and languages that have existed throughout the years. The words and phrases that I have encountered make me also think of the colorful ways that we express ourselves as Caribbean people. Mr. Richard Allsopp stated, and I paraphrase, that in the Caribbean we have a powerfully operative vocabulary with notable linguistic similarities and other lexical differences. He further mentions that it is powerful because it includes many elements in idioms, adjectives and verbs. It has been noted that this is in part due to colonization of some of the islands or the change in national ownership (e.g. English and French) or differences in settlements (e.g. Irish, Danish, Scottish). Words or phrases from time to time have varied meanings.
In using our Caribbean dialect, patois, it is necessary to document exactly what we mean, if we want others and history itself to interpret our words clearly. In fact there has been a move towards a Caribbean lexicography, with resolutions passed as far back as 1967. Evidence of documenting terms used locally in Montserrat was highlighted in a song by Soca King Arrow “Montserrat English’ and also in the book “Alliouagana Folk” (1973) by Dr. George Irish. Along these lines it would be good to have many publications documenting the way we speak. This especially means more Caribbean dictionaries and Caribbean English books.
For now, we will continue to speak and write our minds referencing the safe, comfortable and familiar knowing that our expressions, like lives of great men will one day be fragments of a great Caribbean history.
What are some of the terms used in your culture to describe loss?
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